“Name’s Joey Light—that’s pronounced dough-see-jay! You best listen if that head’s any bright!”

The street boxer would get into a relaxed, easy stance, way unlike what you would expect him to be for him being so young; his footing changed from southpaw to orthodox faster than a hat drop before outright doing the infamous Ali shuffle with his hands jittery like white rock-addicted lighting. His technique was, no glazing, legitimately nigh-flawless.

“I shuffle like Ali, and my hands shoot like the army! I weave like I’m water, and compared to you? I hit harder! Ain’t nobody beatin’ my boxin’!”